Unlikely Target
by Leesa Perrie
Summary: Crossover with SG1. Set mainly preAtlantis. Rodney is kidnapped and ends up in the hands of Anubis… WARNING: Minor torture scenes. Mainly use of Goa'uld torture stick, one scene of being whipped.
1. Chapter One: Consolation Prize

**Unlikely Target**

**By Leesa Perrie**

_Warning: Some torture scenes. Mainly use of Goa'uld torture sticks, but also one scene of a character being whipped._

_Set pre-Atlantis (McKay), a crossover with SG1 (mainly Sam and Jack), set during SG1's season 7 (before 'Heroes')_

**Chapter One – Consolation Prize**

Waking up on a Goa'uld spaceship with a zat induced headache was not on his list of things to do today. Shout at the incompetent so-called lab assistants he'd been assigned after he had finally, thankfully, returned from Russia to work again at Area 51, yes. Email a certain hot blonde astrophysicist and annoy the hell out of her just for fun, yes. Go home and watch endless re-runs of Outer Limits, yes, most definitely. Wake up on a Goa'uld spaceship, no, not in his plans.

Damn.

Why him? Why not Carter, who was at least used to this sort of thing, and was a higher profile target? Sure, his genius was probably more enticing, but this was the Goa'uld, who thought all humans were intellectually inferior to them.

Not that he was seriously wishing harm on Sam, but…it just made more sense for some pissed off Goa'uld to go after a member of SG1, the veritable thorn in the side of all snake-like parasites. Come to think of it, how had they even heard of him?

Maybe it wasn't the Goa'uld, maybe it was someone else who had taken control of one of their ships. Though 'why' was still a big problem, along with 'who'.

This wasn't fair. He wasn't trained for this. He wasn't a soldier, wasn't even a gun totting pseudo-scientist like Jackson, newly returned from a higher plane existence.

He tried to sit up, but the floor seemed quite nice actually. Or at least, his body seemed to think the floor was too nice to leave.

His head pounded, and the manacles on his wrists and ankles were chaffing. Hmm, he'd only just noticed those; at least his hands had been chained in front of him, not behind his back, which he imagined would have been painful. There was a chain leading from the hand manacles to the wall of his cell, so even if he did get up, he wouldn't be moving very far.

What he'd give for SG1 to burst in the door and rescue him right now. Or any other SG team, come to that.

He closed his eyes and waited. No, no rescue yet.

He opened one eye. Still no rescue.

He opened both eyes and sighed. Okay, no rescue, not yet.

And then a nasty little thought entered his head.

Even if the Air Force knew he was missing by now, did they know he'd been taken by… whoever had taken him? Because there was a good chance they didn't, a good chance that it wouldn't occur to them to look for him off world. After all, he'd already gone through all the reasons why he shouldn't be a target, hadn't he?

Oh crap, there was a more than likely chance that rescue wasn't coming, at all. That his disappearance would be just one more unexplained occurrence. That he was completely and totally on his own, more so than ever before in his life.

He was screwed.

Severely so.

Oh shit.

* * *

He wasn't sure how much time passed, it was hard to tell without his watch. Hours certainly, by the grumbling of his stomach and the thirstiness of his throat. And no one came, which was good in that no one had come to hurt or threaten him, but not so good in that he was hungry, thirsty and no closer to working out the who or why he was captured.

The ship shuddered, and from reports he'd read he assumed this meant it had left hyperspace. Or entered it; though he suspected it to be the former.

It wasn't much later that the door to his cell opened and two Jaffa entered, followed by a Goa'uld, judging by the clothes and the air of authority. Oh crap.

"Who are you?" he demanded, taking a step back, but trying to hide his fear behind anger and annoyance.

"That is not your concern," the Goa'uld replied, the voice confirming what he had already determined.

"No? Oh well, how about; what do you want with me?"

"You are an offering to my lord, Anubis."

Terror stole his breath; Anubis. Top dog and total evil.

"Why…why me?" he managed to get out, not proud of the squeak in his voice.

"A poor second choice, but I am hoping my lord will be appeased with you. SG1 proved more difficult to capture than expected, but I learned of you from reports I was able to access during my short time on your miserable planet. You helped defeat Anubis' plan to destroy Earth by overloading the stargate; I believe that will be of interest to him."

"I didn't have that much to do with it, not really," he exclaimed, deciding that, at this point in time, downplaying his part would be a very, very good idea. "Really, hardly anything at all!"

"I have read the reports."

Oh crap, oh no, this…this was so unfair. He was some sort of damn consolation prize, a way for this Goa'uld to try and save himself from Anubis' displeasure at his failed mission.

"No, no, the reports are wrong, and it was over a year ago anyway, why should he still care?"

But his protests were ignored, and after one of the Jaffa removed the wall chain, he was grabbed by both of them and forced to move out of the cell. His ankles were still manacled, but he found there was enough chain between them for him to walk, well, half strides, so more of a shuffle really.

There was no hope of escape, not with those two behemoths holding him, not to mention the Goa'uld-With-No-Name.

This so sucked.

* * *

They left the Al'kesh and he noted that they were inside another ship, presumably a mothership; Anubis' mothership. Fear, a constant companion since waking up in the cell, intensified at that thought. Terror gripped him hard, as he was half dragged through the corridors, clenching his heart and making him shake, though that could be hypoglycaemia; he had no idea how long it had been since he'd eaten.

Despite the terror, a small part of him couldn't help feeling some wonder at being on a _spaceship_, but it was quickly squashed by the horror and fear of just _which _spaceship he was on and who he was about to meet, face to, well, not so much face.

The journey through the ship didn't take long, certainly not long enough for his liking. Crap, why couldn't it take a lot longer? Like a few days, weeks, years…Okay, okay, so hysteria was beginning to creep in; not good.

He was brought to a stop outside a room, whilst the Goa'uld entered. He heard voices, though not the words. The tone, however, suggested that Anubis was displeased with his minion, who was obviously defending his lack of success, and no doubt offering him up as that aforementioned consolation prize.

Sounded like Anubis wasn't buying it, and… yeah, that was a staff weapon firing.

A minute later, and the Goa'uld's body was dragged out; so much for that plan. It seemed Anubis wasn't in the mood to be forgiving… which was not a comforting thought as he was dragged into the chamber and before Anubis' throne.

He didn't think he could get anymore terrified, but it seemed he was wrong about that. This wasn't some hologram beamed through the gate, this was the man, creature, whatever, himself and… he was sure his heart was going to stop anytime soon.

"A poor substitution," Anubis said.

"Uh, yeah," he managed to stammer out. "Maybe you should, uh, just let me go…"

"No. I think you will make a suitable example of what happens to those who oppose me."

No, no, no, no, he screamed in his head, his voice deserting him as absolute horror paralyzed his vocal chords.

He was dragged back a little way and his manacles were attached to a chain hanging from the ceiling that, he noted somewhat hysterically, looked like a permanent feature in this room, and just what did that say about this race? One of the Jaffa then pulled the chain so that his was hanging by his hands, his feet barely grazing the ground.

That hurt. Pulled taut he was unable to find a comfortable position or take his weight fully off his arms, and he could feel that his blood circulation being severely restricted.

Another Jaffa approached him with a knife.

"No," he voice returned as he tried to pull back; a futile gesture.

His t-shirt was cut and removed, and then the knife was exchanged for a whip.

"Fifteen lashes," Anubis ordered.

No, oh no, please…he wasn't sure if he had spoken or not. The first strike was hard and fast, and he screamed. Burning pain spread across his back, and the first strike was followed quickly by another and another and… He screamed again and again, losing count of the lashes. Losing track of time. There was nothing but the pain, over and over and over…

When the final lash had been given, he was still conscious, though only just. He desperately wanted to pass out. Forget being macho, he wanted oblivion and he wanted it _now_.

_Please_.

It wasn't to be.

He heard Anubis, but his voice seemed a long way away and he didn't catch the order, which really should have worried him more than it did. His eyes opened in time to see a Goa'uld torture stick placed against his arm, and then all was pain again.

Pain, followed by a few seconds of ragged breathing, followed by pain…the cycle went around and around, and his voice grew hoarse from his screams.

But he didn't pass out. Why? Why did his body have to be so strong about this? Why couldn't it just let go? The thoughts came in the brief, all too brief, moments between the all-consuming pain.

He didn't know two hours had passed since they'd started on him. Didn't know anything but pain, followed by pain, followed by more pain.

And then his body finally had enough and let go.

Anubis ordered for him to be taken to a cell and for his injuries to be tended, and for food and water to be provided when he awoke. He wanted this prisoner to last for a long time. A very long time.

* * *

Over the next several days a pattern was established. Two or three hours of torture followed by two or three hours of rest. The preferred weapon was the torture stick, or sticks as they sometimes used more than one on him at a time. Sometimes they would vary it by beating him, being careful not to cause life threatening injuries. Anubis wanted this to last, wanted him to last, to survive for days, weeks…months even. He wondered if Anubis was getting some kind of sick enjoyment from it all.

He sank into a world of pain and fear and despair. There was no hope of escape, and all hope of rescue had left him early on. He had no idea how long he'd been here, but it felt like forever.

Sometimes he'd dream about before; before the pain, when he was on Earth. When the only pain he had to deal with was emotional, and that could be pushed away, ignored, even forgotten at times.

He dreamt of his sister; wishing he could see her one more time and apologise for cutting her out of his life. So stupid, short-sighted. So unfair of him.

He dreamt of Carter; wishing he'd been less of a jerk around her, so that maybe she would like him, even want him as a friend. Or more.

He dreamt of his old life; wishing he'd found someone to trust, to call a friend, instead of pushing everyone away. Afraid of being hurt. Afraid of hurting, of being a disappointment.

He dreamt of a life without pain, but it was just a dream now. A glorious dream, that teased and tormented him. He'd rather have the nightmares. At least they didn't taunt him so.


	2. Chapter Two: Capture and Escape

**Chapter Two – Capture and Escape **

It wasn't their most glorious moment, Sam thought, tricked and trapped by another bounty hunter, this one not willing to let them go. The only good thing about all of this was that Teal'c and Daniel had managed to get away, though help was too late for Jack and herself.

The others knew the bounty hunter would turn them over to Anubis, so maybe rescue would come, but that seemed unlikely. Anubis' fleet was formidable, and Earth wouldn't be able to fight it alone. Infiltration might work, possibly the Tok'ra could help, though again, there was a good chance they wouldn't, not if it meant being uncovered.

Escape was the better option, and they had escaped from bad situations before. It was just a case of waiting for the right opportunity, one that so far hadn't shown itself, but there was hope, always hope.

They were marched into a chamber, to face Anubis, but she found herself distracted. At the foot of his throne there was a human, hands chained together and chained to the throne.

A very familiar human, she realised with a start.

Oh hell, they had never considered that McKay's disappearance could have been linked to the Goa'uld who had attempted to infiltrate the SGC. It was just over a week since his disappearance, and even allowing for the time it would take an Al'kesh to reach here… McKay had been here for about seven days.

Jack had spotted him as well, and they exchanged a shocked look. What the hell had Anubis done to him; he was pale, shaking and… cowed. Broken. He didn't look up at them, his eyes firmly fixed on the floor. He was chained in such a way that he had to kneel, or else lie with his arms held above him. Neither option looked in any way comfortable.

Anubis was making some gloating speech, she wasn't really paying that much attention to him, which she knew was bad. But she couldn't get over seeing McKay, here, like that. She felt ill, thinking of the horrors that might have been done to him, wondering which ones he had suffered. He wasn't trained to handle this sort of thing; not that anyone was ever really trained, but McKay was a lab guy, not someone who went off world. Not someone who might expect to get into trouble with an alien enemy.

Not someone who might end up in the hands of Anubis.

* * *

He felt someone staring at him, but couldn't be bothered to respond. Let whoever it was stare, what did it matter?

Anubis seemed happy with his new prisoners…oh, well that made sense. Carter and O'Neill. They should have been too good to end up here. He wondered if this meant Anubis would leave him alone now whilst he concentrated on them. Maybe he'd be killed now that Anubis had a better prize to play with.

Death….he still didn't want that, even now, after who knew how much time had passed or how much pain he'd endured.

Not like he would have any say in it, though.

He hoped they got away, or they got themselves killed; he wouldn't wish this on them, especially not Carter; even if it meant that Anubis left him alone for a while.

Humiliation, that was what this was about. Humiliation, and a show of power. He was an example of what happened when the Tauri stood against him. An example of what would happen to them too, so this was about fear as well. Instilling fear in them.

Did they feel fear? They were soldiers, though Sam was more than just that. Did they feel fear or just push it to one side? He bet they wouldn't beg or plead like he had at first, before he'd realised it was useless. Before he'd started to forget what it was like to live without pain.

Looking up, he met Carter's eyes for a moment, before returning his gaze to the floor. She seemed upset, appalled, but then she would be. This was her future, O'Neill's as well, unless they escaped.

He hoped they escaped. They didn't deserve this.

Maybe they'd take him with them.

Probably not. He'd only slow them down.

He hoped they escaped.

* * *

His eyes.

There was no hope, just despair.

No anger, no arrogance, no… no McKay.

He'd given up, and even when he'd looked at her, there was no spark, just… apathy.

She was sure he recognised her, them, but that was all.

Anubis had finished his gloat, and turned his attention to McKay.

"Look at your future."

Okay, still some gloating.

A Jaffa unchained McKay's hands from the throne, and dragged him over to where a chain was set into the ceiling, fastening him there so that his feet only just touched the ground. McKay didn't resist, didn't speak; he seemed resigned to his fate.

"No," she couldn't help the protest that slipped out when the Jaffa picked up a torture stick.

"Carter," O'Neill warned. She knew showing weakness to the enemy was a bad idea.

"Sorry, sir," she replied quietly.

Jack's face showed no emotions, but she could tell by his stance that he was tense. Jack had never felt inclined to forgive McKay for the 'Teal'c incident', as he called it, but even he was unhappy about this, she was sure. McKay was a civilian, and therefore should have been protected from something like this.

Jack might hide his reactions from Anubis, but she knew him too well. The colonel wanted to fight back, to kick ass; to save McKay as well as themselves.

McKay's screams were hoarse and broken. They tore at her. Seeing anyone go through this would be hard to bear, let alone someone she knew, even if she didn't particularly like him.

He didn't deserve this.

It lasted maybe a few minutes, but seemed longer. McKay tensed, waiting for more, expecting more… and he wasn't disappointed. She wished he had been.

She knew Jack or herself were next, and almost wished it for herself right now. To stop McKay's pain. And, selfishly, so that she would hopefully be unconscious and not have to see Jack's pain too.

Ten minutes passed before Anubis signalled the Jaffa to unchain McKay, and re-chain him to his throne.

So, who was next?

A question that remained unanswered as an explosion shook the ship, followed by another, and suddenly they were no longer of such import. Anubis ordered three of his Jaffa to escort Jack and herself to a cell, and they were roughly hauled from the room. Further explosions vibrated throughout the ship as they were led away.

Rescue?

It seemed unlikely. Too soon.

Another explosion was too close for comfort, and two of the Jaffa were knocked to the ground. Seizing the opportunity presented, they moved into action, taking out the third Jaffa with his staff weapon, as well as the two on the floor before they could recover.

They turned around, quickly moving back to the throne room, hiding outside until an opportunity presented itself. It was a tense wait, but fortunately only lasted a few minutes before Anubis and his guards left, presumably for the command bridge.

As soon as the coast was clear, they warily entered the room. McKay was still chained to the throne, though he was lying rather than kneeling, his arms taking his weight. He appeared to be unconscious.

Jack took watch whilst she moved over to check on McKay, who was as unconscious as he looked. Searching, there was no sign of a key to release him. There was little choice but to use the staff weapon to sever the chain holding him to the throne, despite the noise it would make.

Hoping that the alarms and general confusion would cover the noise, she aimed carefully and took the shot.

McKay woke up at the noise, and turned confused eyes to her.

"Hey, it's okay," she reassured him. "Can you stand? We really need to get out of here."

"Out of here?"

"Yes, McKay, this is what is generally known as an escape attempt. You coming?"

Still clearly confused, he nevertheless staggered to his feet with her help. She was glad to see that only his hands were chained, not his feet as well.

"We need to go, now," Jack called, moving over to grab one of McKay's arms and towing him out of the chamber and along the corridor towards where they believed the hangar deck was located. She followed, taking their six.

The journey was tense, and they had to hide several times. McKay collapsed on them at one point, but recovered enough to continue, though they were taking most of his weight now. Fortunately the chaos caused by the explosions worked in their favour, and they managed to reach the hangar deck unnoticed.

"Okay," Jack said, lowering McKay down to the ground. "You stay here and stay quiet, Carter and I will take out the guards and come back for you."

"Why?" It was quiet, and full of confusion, his eyes closed.

"Because we don't leave people behind, McKay," Jack answered.

"Not even annoying astrophysicists," she added dryly.

He looked at her, confused, and then she saw it; a spark of the McKay she knew. Irritation flared for an instant, and then was gone.

"Take this, anyone who isn't us, shoot first," Jack said, placing a zat into McKay's hand, hoping he was coherent enough not to shoot them. "You understand?"

"Yes, shoot first. Unless it's you or Carter. I'm not stupid, just..." he trailed off.

"Just a little out of sorts," Carter finished for him, patting his arm gently. "We'll be quick."

"Good."

* * *

There were only a handful of guards, and they were distracted. It wasn't as hard as it could have been to take them out. Carter boarded the Al'kesh that was in the hangar, whilst Jack went to retrieve McKay.

A few minutes later, and they were all onboard, Jack muttering about the 'damn untrained civilian' nearly stunning him, and McKay collapsing into a chair, passing out shortly after and missing the rest of the escape.

A few shots to the hangar doors later, and they were out. They noticed that Anubis was under attack by another Goa'uld fleet, at least that's how it looked to them. They entered hyperspace, the confusion of the battle covering their escape.

McKay slept all the way home; they let him, figuring he deserved the rest.

* * *

He hurt. That wasn't new. It was dulled though, and that _was_ new. He opened his eyes slowly, and also new; no manacles, no chains.

Okay, he was…lying on a bed. There were noises; beeping, clicking…an IV in his arm…

Home. Earth. SGC's infirmary, at a guess.

Safe.

There were people talking in low tones close by. He was lying on his side, but he could see them, over in the corner.

Carter. O'Neill. That SGC doctor, hmm, he couldn't remember her name off hand.

So, they escaped. And rescued him.

Why?

Oh, right, they didn't leave people behind.

That was something else new; for him, anyway. People were usually happy to leave him behind; ecstatic if he was the one doing the leaving.

Had they rejoiced at the labs when he went missing?

He was sure there had been much rejoicing when he'd finally left Russia; not just from him either.

Safe. He was safe here, wasn't he?

His eyes closed against his wishes, and sleep stole over him.

His last thought; safe. He was safe.

* * *

The next time he awoke, he was still lying on his side, a pillow tucked into his chest, and one tucked behind him to stop him rolling over onto his damaged back.

Someone was sitting near to his bed, writing on a pad. He blinked a few times to focus his eyes.

Jackson.

Why was he sitting with him?

He moved, letting out a small groan. The pain was dulled, but still there.

"Hi," Jackson said, putting his pen and pad to one side. "You in pain? I could get Janet, uh, Dr Fraiser."

Oh, that was the doctor's name. Okay.

Hmm, maybe he should say something, Jackson was looking rather worried by his silence.

"Why," he started, then coughed, his throat dry.

"Oh." Jackson grabbed a glass of water with a straw, helping him to take careful sips. Not easy when lying on your side, but he felt too weak to sit up.

"Why," he started again, waving a hand vaguely at the man. "Here."

"Why am I here?"

He nodded.

"Well, Sam needed to get some rest, Jack too, and we thought someone should stay with you. Didn't want you to wake up alone, so we're taking it in turns. You just missed Teal'c."

"Oh."

He tried to assimilate the information. It took a few moments for it to sink in, which was not like him. It felt like his thinking was slowed, damaged. "Not pity."

"Huh? No, not pity, McKay. Compassion, which is different. And maybe a little guilt. We should have put the pieces together earlier and realised you'd been taken by that Goa'uld infiltrator. Should have been looking for you off world."

"Hmm." Slow, thinking was too slow. Compassion. Guilt. "Not your fault."

"Maybe, maybe not," Daniel said with a shrug. "It's certainly wasn't yours."

"Carter? O'Neill? Okay?"

"Yeah, Sam and Jack are fine."

"Good. Think I'm not," he said tiredly. "Think I'm broken. Slow."

"Well, some of that could be due to the drugs; you're on some pretty good painkillers there. As for the rest, well, everyone breaks in the end. And there are degrees of broken. Either way, we're going to help you."

"You. Not break. SG1. Never break."

"Oh, I've broken." Daniel thought of the time he became addicted to the sarcophagus; the way he had treated his friends; his need to return. "Teal'c broke once and Apophis was able to brainwash him. We were fortunate to break him free of that."

"How…do you recover?"

"With help from friends. Talking to a psychiatrist helps too."

"No friends. Don't trust shrinks."

And he didn't trust them. Too ready to talk about his childhood, to pry into his life, to label him as a loner or misfit or, even worse, someone who just 'needed to be loved'. He'd heard it all before.

"Yeah, maybe you need to open up a bit. Sam's decided she wants to help you, the rest of the team are happy to try as well."

"Should hate me… Teal'c especially."

"I guess," Daniel said with a sigh. "But no matter how arrogant or obnoxious you might be, you don't deserve what happened to you. Besides, I think there's a decent guy underneath."

"Don't do friends. Leave me be."

He didn't want any of them trying to befriend him; not even Sam.

On the ship, he'd wished things were different, but now…now he wanted things to go back to normal. He didn't want people to be worried about him, or upset if something bad happened to him, and he certainly didn't want anyone to be let down when he messed things up, as always happened, turning them away from him; disappointing them.

He wanted to be alone.

But they weren't going to let him be, he could tell, even before Jackson confirmed it with a gentle, "let us help".

Closing his eyes, he tuned out his surroundings, only vaguely aware of Jackson's sigh as he picked up his pen and pad and went back to his work.

Sleep approached him again, and he welcomed it.


	3. Chapter Three: Not Safe

**Chapter Three – Not Safe **

Three days had passed and McKay seemed to be pulling away from them. He wasn't talking much now, only answering the briefest of questions. Withdrawing.

Daniel had reported his conversation and how McKay had shut him out. She should be enjoying the silence, the opportunity to talk to him about science without him pulling her theories to pieces, or ridiculing her experiments. The fact was, it wasn't pleasant to see him like this.

She'd tried to draw him out, expounding on theories she knew would normally have him frothing at the mouth; nothing. Well, the occasional snort, but even those were rare.

Physically, he was healing well. He would have scars on his back, but he was gaining strength, and Janet had released him to guest quarters on base a few hours ago.

He refused to talk to Dr MacKenzie, a psychiatrist from the local area hospital they had used before. That hadn't been a surprise though, considering the conversation with Daniel, but she knew the doctor was worried about his reactions. Warning of a breakdown in his future if he didn't open up to someone, and probably sooner rather than later.

She hadn't realised just how stubborn McKay could be when he set his mind to something. It was just a pity he chose to be stubborn about this.

The team had taken turns sitting with him, even Jack seemed committed to trying to help McKay. She knew that although Jack disliked the annoying Canadian, watching him being tortured had shaken them both more than expected. Especially as he should have been safe, being such an unlikely target. It had brought home to a lot of people just how unsafe _anyone_ associated with the program could be. She knew that new security measures were being brought in, to offer better protection to scientists wherever they were based, not just at the SGC.

She was about to enter the control area above the gateroom when she heard the sound of a zat being fired from inside, three times. The alarms started soon after and the control room doors started to close. Instinctively, she slipped inside before the doors shut her out. She wasn't noticed fortunately, though she doubted that would last for long.

Two gate techs and a soldier were down, hopefully just stunned, and the blast shield had been raised. At the computer was… McKay. What the hell was he up to, and how the hell did she stop him? She didn't have a weapon, and she doubted she'd be able to make it to the fallen soldier without being zatted. Not to mention that she really didn't want to have to shoot him.

As she watched, he started the dialling sequence on the gate. She had a really bad feeling about this. Who could he be dialling and why? With him in control of the gate and the iris… oh crap. Had Anubis brainwashed him? Was their escape a sham? Or was there something else going on?

Whatever the case, she had no choice but to stop him.

She moved towards him slowly, keeping her hands up and to the sides, showing that she was unarmed. The movement caught his attention, and he watched her warily, the zat gun aimed and ready to use. She was rather surprised he hadn't shot her as soon as he'd realised she was there.

"Hey, what are you doing?" she asked, keeping her voice calm and level.

"Stay back," he said, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

"Okay, I'll just stay here," she soothed, waiting for an opportunity to show itself. She was sure she could take him in a hand to hand fight, though the zat was a potential problem. "So, what are you up to?"

"Letting him know he can send the bomb through. That the iris is disabled."

The matter of fact nature of the statement was every bit as chilling as the statement itself.

"Letting who know, and what bomb?" she pushed.

"Anubis. The bomb will destroy this facility."

"I see."

And she did. They had been played for idiots, and they _were _idiots; they should have checked for this. They _had_ checked to make sure he hadn't become a host, but hadn't thought to check for brainwashing.

They really were idiots at times.

The gate was open by now, and he moved towards the radio. As he did so, though, one of the gate techs groaned, distracting him further.

She made her move, running into him before he could respond and knocking him to the ground, making sure he landed on his back. It was cruel, but necessary. Sure enough, he gave a yell of pain as his back, still healing and sore, hit the floor and she was able to knock the zat out of his hand. It flew away from both of them.

He came back with a clumsily aimed punch to her jaw which she was able to block easily with her arm, and then she slammed her own punch to the jaw home. It wasn't enough to knock him unconscious but it brought her the time she needed to jump up and go for the fallen zat.

McKay climbed to his feet unsteadily, tackling her awkwardly, but he was too late and fell to the floor, stunned.

Taking the time to make sure he was out of it, she then closed down the gate and unlocked the doors, retracting the blast shield as well.

And then she slumped down next to McKay, checking his pulse again, reassuring herself that he was alive. Alive, but compromised.

Damn.

It felt like they'd failed him again.

* * *

The Goa'uld were very good at brainwashing, she knew this from past experiences. She also knew that undoing it could be problematic. The use of a zat had been enough to free Rya'c from the effects, but for Teal'c it had meant taking him to the edge of death, which most likely wouldn't work on a human anyway.

When McKay had woken up, he struggled to get free, and was very clearly not cured. He cursed them soundly, demanding to be let free, to be returned to his 'lord'.

Of course, his 'lord' would reward failure with death, or worse, but pointing that out was pointless. McKay was convinced otherwise. He wanted to go back.

That was out of the question, of course. Though she was puzzled why he wasn't trying to act as though the zat had removed the brainwashing so as to wait for another chance. Why had Anubis not considered the possibility of failure and programmed in another attempt to fool them? And why would he want McKay to return? To kill him?

General Hammond had contacted the Tok'ra in the hopes that they might be able to help; they might know what technique was used and a way to undo it. They had also contacted the Asgard. So far, neither ally had replied.

Janet was keeping McKay sedated for the time being. There wasn't much else they could do right now. Suggestions had been made as to how to deal with this, but all of them were based on Earth techniques for brainwashing, not alien. If their allies were unable to help, they would have to try these ideas and hope for the best.

In the meantime, they just had to wait, and she hated waiting.

* * *

The reply from the Tok'ra was not encouraging. They had recently discovered that Anubis had a new form of brainwashing that they couldn't undo, involving nanites.

They did provide a specially designed scanner, which showed that McKay's nervous system and brain was infested with them. All attempts by the Tok'ra to counter the nanites had proven useless, and they had tried many different means. The only consolation was that the tiny robots were keyed into the subject's specific DNA and so couldn't spread to others.

It wasn't much of a consolation to her, or her team. And certainly not to McKay, who was trapped under the nanites' control.

* * *

A few hours later, Thor arrived, and much to her relief stated that the Asgard had come across something similar before. Even so, it was another day before Thor was able to design a nanite-based virus that would attack Anubis' nanites, deactivating them. The virus nanites would then deactivate as well, and McKay's body would absorb and expel the robotic remains.

She watched as McKay was anaesthetised. Thor had warned the procedure would be uncomfortable and possibly even painful, and it would be better for the McKay to remain unconscious throughout it.

And then the pseudo-virus was given, and it was back to one of her least favourite past times.

Waiting.

* * *

It was the sound of the heart monitor that reached him first. The scent of antiseptic was next. The pain… muted. He felt… free. He frowned at that thought, confused by it, and then the memories assaulted him.

Pain. Fear. The seemingly endless cycle of pain and rest and pain… the rescue… the betrayal as something took control of him, made him… he'd stolen a zat. At least he hadn't killed anyone… but he'd hit Sam. Not hard, she'd deflected his blow easily.

She'd hit him!

Damn, his jaw felt sore. Had she broken it?

Not that he didn't deserve it if she had. He'd nearly destroyed the SGC and a large area surrounding it.

The beeping of the heart monitor gave away his distress, and a hand gripped his arm gently. He flinched, but the hand remained.

"Easy, McKay."

Sam's voice. He forced his eyes open.

"Hey," Carter smiled at him. "You in there?"

"Here," he muttered quietly.

"That's good. You're going to be okay now."

"No… betray…"

"Not any more, we've fixed the problem. Well, Thor did actually."

Thor, the Asgard? Why would they ask the Asgards for help, for him?

"What… happened?"

"You just concentrate on getting better, the rest can wait."

"No. Tell me…" he looked in her eyes and saw the doubt. Whatever it was, it wasn't good. "Please."

"McKay…" Sam looked away briefly, before sighing and looking him back in the eyes. "Anubis programmed some nanites to take control of you. Thor created a nanite-virus to deactivate the ones Anubis had infected you with. All the nanites are dead now, including the ones Thor made."

Nanites? He'd had nanites running through his body? Oh crap, that didn't sound good. Not good at all.

"Hey, calm down. They're gone now. You're okay. It's okay."

He concentrated on slowing his breathing down, embarrassed that Carter felt the need to reassure him like some frightened child.

"Sorry," he muttered.

"It's understandable."

"Betrayed you, everyone. Sorry."

"Not your fault."

"I should have fought…"

"There was nothing you could have done, McKay. Let it go."

She seemed sincere, but he couldn't let the guilt go that easily; maybe never. But he left it alone for now, he didn't want her to keep reassuring him he wasn't to blame. He didn't deserve absolution; didn't want it. He should have found a way to fight it.

"Stunned people… okay?"

"Yeah, they're fine."

"Hit you."

Carter laughed, making him scowl.

"I hate to break it to you, but you're not a fighter. That has to be the lousiest punch anyone has tried to throw at me," she grinned at him. "No harm done though."

"Humph."

Okay, so he wasn't exactly Rambo or Rocky, but he still had his pride.

He was glad he hadn't hurt her though. And then his scowl deepened.

"You hit me!" he accused, feigning outrage. "Is it broken? It feels broken…"

"If it was broken, you wouldn't be talking half as much," she said lightly, and then looked contrite. "I'm sorry I had to do that though."

"Are you? Thought you'd love the chance to slug me one."

"No! Though the way you're going I might change my mind about that!"

He grinned, carefully because, ow, his jaw _was_ sore.

"You love me really, you just don't want to admit it," he said, the grin turning into a smug leer. He wanted to distract her from the things he really didn't want to talk about; annoy her so she left him alone.

"I can see you're feeling more like your normal self," she said, removing her hand from his arm, and shaking her head in exasperation, but also wondering why she hadn't realised that his lack of response whilst under the control of the nanites was so out of character for him.

"Didn't deny it," he pointed out.

"Would you believe me if I did?"

"Nope."

"Didn't think so," she rolled her eyes. "You're a real pain in the neck."

"I try to be."

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" she said, and then became more serious. "Look, I know this whole ordeal must have been bad for you, very bad, and you really need to talk about it with someone."

"I… know," he admitted reluctantly.

"Good. Dr MacKenzie, a psychiatrist we use sometimes, wants to talk to you."

"Later."

"But you'll talk to him?"

"Yes, yes, I'll talk to him," he snapped, though he didn't intend to say much to the guy. For some reason his reply made Sam smirk. "What?"

"You just sound more like your old self, that's all."

"Right."

Only he wasn't back to his old self. The banter was forced, not natural, but he needed Carter to think he was mending. Needed them all to think it.

He didn't want sympathy. Didn't need it; didn't deserve it. And he certainly didn't want compassion or pity or… friendship. He felt broken inside, but he pushed that to one side, forcing out the banter, the sarcasm, the expected McKay responses. Hiding behind his barriers, where he was safe. Alone, but safe.

Where people were safe from him.

He was relieved when Dr Fraiser came in to top up his pain meds. It helped him to sleep and avoid further conversation.

* * *

It was several days later when he went to find Carter, tracking her down to her lab. She was alone, which suited him just fine. The guilt wouldn't leave him for what had happened, even though everyone was telling him he wasn't to blame. He knew that, and yet deep down he couldn't let go of the guilt; the belief that he should have known, should have been able to fight it. It wasn't rational, but then that was the nature of emotions.

Not sure why he was here exactly, but needing not to be alone, he hovered in the doorway for a few moments. Dr MacKenzie said it would take him awhile to fully recover from all that had happened to him, and although he would be returning to Nevada the next day, he wouldn't be allowed back to work for several days, maybe even a couple of weeks. Not until the Area 51 psychiatrist was convinced he was ready to go back.

At least this time, they weren't interested in slapping labels onto him, or probing into his childhood, something he was grateful for. It was hard enough talking about the... torture... the nanites… He shook himself. This MacKenzie guy was good and had managed to pry more out of him than he'd wanted to share, but he knew the Area 51 shrink a little and he wasn't so skilled. It would be easy to 'recover' and get back to work.

There was no way he was going to let Anubis win, so that meant getting past this and getting on with his life. It might take time, but he'd do it. He had to. Even if it meant pushing down the guilt and fear, and ignoring it. He'd do what he needed to get back to work and on with his life. His intellect wasn't broken, even if he was.

Carter had spotted him hanging around the door, so he entered.

Fifteen minutes later, after an awkward thank you for sticking by him whilst he was 'not entirely himself', followed by a discourse on the absurdity of some of the theories she'd told him about whilst he was 'not talking to anyone', found him chased out of the lab by an angry, but very oh so hot, blonde physicist.

He smiled as he made his, for now, retreat.

Things were getting back to normal quite nicely, it seemed.

At least on the outside.


	4. Chapter Four: Addendum

**Chapter Four - Addendum**

_Set towards the end of Season One_

When Kolya ordered the Genii soldier to cut his arm, he was determined not to break. But he did. All the memories came rushing back; of Anubis, the torture, the pain, the fear. It wasn't the cut that broke him, he knew that; it was the past that he'd hidden deep inside, followed quickly by the guilt and self-hatred for spilling his guts.

When, a day later, Elizabeth and Sheppard tracked him down and cornered him, he hadn't been happy. They wanted him to talk about what had happened, and he really, really didn't want to. He wanted them to leave him be.

And a year ago, hell, even a few months ago, he would have clammed up and pushed them away. But not any more. His barriers had been breached, first by Elizabeth, then by Carson, Sheppard and even Teyla.

It wasn't fair of them, to befriend him like that.

But they had. And he'd let them.

So when they cornered him, he tried to bluster and misdirect them, but found he couldn't. Instead, he spilled his guts for the second time that week.

Which led to appointments with Heightmeyer and threats of being removed from duty if he didn't cooperate with her. Again, not fair.

She dissected him piece by piece, bit by bit. Say what you like about Heightmeyer, but she knew her trade and wasn't fooled by any of the tricks he'd used in the past to fool other, less skilled psychiatrists. She got to the bottom of his fears and guilt, about Anubis, about Kolya; about himself. And then she helped him to put himself back together, to accept what had happened and move on from it.

It took time.

And now there were other more pressing fears; the Wraith would arrive soon, and their defence was… laughable at best. He'd even found himself agreeing with Kavanagh, of all people, but Sheppard and Elizabeth seemed to be of the persuasion of 'never say die'.

So he'd keep working, keep looking for the solution; he'd hate to let them down. And it would be a shame to die just as he felt he'd truly started living for the first time in his life.

The End


End file.
